The following camp-fire song does not seem to be on Mudcat already. (It probably deserves an 'origins' thread of its own.)

Mine eyes have seen the horror of the coming of the frogs.
They are sneaking through the swamps and they are lurking in the logs.
You can hear their mournful croaking through the early morning fog.
The frogs keep hopping on.

Chorus:
Ribbet, ribbet, ribbet, croak, croak.
Ribbet, ribbet, ribbet, croak, croak.
Ribbet, ribbet, ribbet, croak, croak.
The frogs keep hopping on.

The frogs have grown in numbers and their croaking fills the air.
There's no place to escape because the frogs are everywhere.
They've eaten all the flies and now they're hungry as a bear.
The frogs keep hopping on.
Chorus
I used to like the bullfrogs, like to feel their slimy skin.
Liked to put them in my teacher's desk and take them home again.
Now they're knocking at the front door, I can't let those frogs come in.
The frogs keep hopping on.
Chorus
They've hopped into the living room and headed down the hall.
They've have trapped me in the corner and my back's against the wall.
And when I opened up my mouth to give a warning call,
This was all I heard.
Chorus